


Middling

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bickering, Bottoming from the Top, Dom/sub Undertones, Half-Sibling Incest, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Shift, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 18:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: "It's not like he's noticing anything you're doing. Face it Greyjoy: when he's on top like that, you could be anyone in the world and he'd enjoy fucking himself on you just as much.”In which Theon is easily manipulated, Jon is a smug git about it, and Robb would like to get off at some point.





	Middling

**Author's Note:**

> Kink generator provided: anal sex (bottom riding top) + intercrural sex. Aka. no I am not dead, here have some porn. ^^

Theon is starting to wonder if he should worry about the fact he's being pinned down and practically driven into the mattress by how fast Robb is moving. Then again, he reassures himself, Robb looks like he's too far gone to even think of such things, spearing himself on Theon's cock again and again, nails digging into Theon's shoulders hard enough to leave bruises purely as a reaction to the feel of being filled up over and over. Theon moans at the tight heat clenching around him, throwing his head back where it rests on Jon's thigh. But he's still in control. He thinks.

Jon's fingers run through his hair with unsettling tenderness, but he'd only pout if Theon told him to stop. With his other hand Theon can see him stroking his own cock loosely, eyes dark as he watches Robb bouncing in Theon's lap. Theon bites his lip. It would be easy to lean over a bit and take Jon into his mouth, let him join in the fun properly, but then again, he likes to tease Jon. The boy won't get anything until he asks for it. Or until Robb tells Theon to stop being a prick and just do it already, whichever comes first.

“Ah!” Robb cries out, a little splatter of fluid leaping from his cock and landing on Theon's belly as he shifts his hips to a new angle, one that's clearly better for him. Theon gasps at the heat splashing across his skin, and he bucks up off the bed unwittingly, which sets Robb whimpering.

“Careful, Robb,” says Jon and he tugs Theon's hair, which makes him moan, but is pretty unfair when you think about it. “We only have so much spare water. Try not to make too much of a mess.”

However Robb just moans and drowns Jon's final words out. Theon laughs at that. “Yeah, good luck there Snow. I don't think he's really listening, to be honest with you.” And Jon sighs in irritation. They both know very well just how messy Robb can be when he's in the moment. “If it makes you feel better Snow, I'm going to be very neat. I'm going to spend every drop of my seed deep in that pretty little hole of his.”

Well Robb certainly heard _that_. He moans loudly and somehow quickens his pace even more, making Theon gasp as Robb's soft wet arse swallows him whole. _Greedy thing,_ he thinks fondly.

Above him, Jon's eyes flicker, a dark look coming over him, his hand tightening around his own cock. Theon bites his lip again. “Well that's very nice for you, Theon,” says Jon, “but what about the rest of us?”

“What? Do you want somewhere to spend, Snow?” he asks, his face the picture of innocence. Or not. He pouts mockingly. “Hmm. You might have to think about that one.”

Jon's hand tightens in his hair. “I have.”

Robb cries out as Theon's cock twitches within him, hard. Theon realises he's panting, as Robb has him close to the edge and he's leaning into Jon's grip. His eyes drift closed. “And?” he whispers. He totally, totally expects Jon to shove three fingers in his mouth, force his jaw open, _use_ him... that's what usually happens, after all.

A few seconds pass, and after enough of this Jon doing nothing, Theon opens his eyes again, puzzled. When he does Jon isn't looking at him, but at Robb, and he's back to stroking Theon's hair softly. Theon pretends he's not disappointed.

When Jon notices the way Theon's looking up at him, however, he smiles. “You know, I love him when he looks like this,” he whispers, and Theon shudders as Robb rolls his hips lewdly, his hands now pressed over Theon's chest, a callous on his thumb rubbing hard against Theon's left nipple. “Totally hungry for cock, he's forgotten all about us two.”

Theon snorts. “You, maybe,” he says, and to prove a point, he grabs Robb by the hips and thrusts up, hard. “Pretty sure he remembers me.”

Robb cries out, but after, he opens his eyes a little and squints at them suspiciously. They've gotten that look before, the look that screams ' _I was about three seconds from coming, do you have to do this now?_ '

Theon's not exactly overwhelmed with sympathy however. For all Robb complains about their constant bickering, it tends to work out alright for him when he gets in the middle of their arguments. Or in the middle of their 'arguments' as the case may be.

“Your cock, sure,” Jon says, and Theon gives him a nonplussed look. What else does he need to remember? “But it's not like he's noticing anything you're doing. Face it Greyjoy: when he's on top like that, you could be anyone in the world and he'd enjoy fucking himself on you just as much.”

And _that_ gets under Theon's skin. Enough to make him miss the fact he's being clearly, blatantly manipulated. “That's not true,” he insists, but when Robb lets out one of his whorish moans, he huffs in annoyance. “Right then. Best you remember what you're dealing with Stark.”

Robb gasps in shock when Theon, with what he considers admirable athleticism, jumps up from his position lying on his back, pushing them forward until Robb lands beneath him with a thud, without ever removing his cock. Theon grins in pride, only for Robb to give him a very irritated look. The look of ' _really, you two?_ ' Theon huffs and thrusts in deep, and that's gets Robb's face back to what it should be – overwhelmed with the total bliss of having Theon Greyjoy fuck him.

Behind them, Jon smothers a laugh. “No need to prove anything, Greyjoy,” he says.

“Don't have to,” Theon bites back. “Just showing Stark here who gives him the best fucking he's gonna get.” He pistons his hips hard, making Robb shake from head to toe.

“You're both awful,” Robb mutters, before moaning and giving in, letting Theon's thrusts wash over him, knees pushing into Theon's sides.

Theon expects Jon to say something back, but when he doesn't, he smugly believes he's won the argument for a little bit. Until he feels the mattress sink as Jon crawls behind them. Soft, square hands brush against Theon's skin before taking hold of Robb's thighs. “Wrap your legs around his waist, Robb.”

Robb groans, but is definitely far gone enough he'll do what he's told. Theon gasps as he feels Robb's thighs, the muscles there firm and powerful, squeezes around him. His legs are forced together by the movement, and he pushes in and out of Robb faster. “The fuck are you doing, Snow?”

Jon doesn't answer him, though he does lean over and give Theon a teasing peck on his left shoulder. That doesn't leave him any less confused, but Robb starting to moan and writhe again, his arms wrapping around Theon's shoulders and holding on tight, is enough to distract him.

Until suddenly there's something warm behind him, warm and large, a body, a body draping itself all over him like he's all over Robb, _shit_.

“S-Snow,” he chokes out, trying to sound warning but mostly just sounding pathetic, as Jon slots into position on top of him, his knees either side of Theon and legs just below Robb's where they're wrapped around Theon's waist, and he shouldn't really be tall enough for that, but _fuck_. Theon gasps as he feels Jon's cock, hot, hard in heavy, slowly tracing up his inner thigh before slotting between the cheeks of his arse, rubbing against his hole firmly. Too late, Theon remembers all the tactics Lord Stark tries to teach them, about the importance of not leaving your rear undefended. He moans.

“Theon,” Jon whispers in his ear, and Theon shivers. “You've stopped.” Theon then notices he has: he's lying completely still, except for how he's trembling at the feel of Jon's body pressed against his, and beneath him Robb is starting to whine and writhe, rubbing his cock against Theon's belly desperately. “I thought you moved so you could give Robb the fucking he needed?”

Robb's hole clenches tighter around him, and Theon gasps again, his hips bucking of their own volition. “R-right.” He can tell he's being manipulated now, but Robb is all but a panting mess at this point and Theon himself isn't much better; he has to do something. He thrusts deeper again and makes Robb cry out, then shudders as he pulls back and presses himself up against Jon's cock _just so_. “Drowned god,” he whispers.

Jon kisses his shoulder again and Theon can just feel him smirking, the smug bastard. The fact he would do the exact same thing if he were in Jon's position does not lessen his irritation – if anything, it positively enhances it. Jon has a hand wrapped around his cock and Theon can feel him push it back and forth, rubbing Theon's hole teasingly – he whines and bucks hard into Robb, who bites down on his shoulder to smother the noise he makes, which only Theon buck and writhe more desperately. _Snow has me right where he wants me,_ he thinks bitterly. He's gone from fearing he might not be in control to knowing he really, really isn't.

The bastard pushes a little deeper and Theon cries out as Jon threatens to slip right into him. _Oh gods, he can't,_ he thinks, because he's too tight, too dry, and he doesn't know where they put it after Robb hurriedly fingered himself open. But he lets himself rut back into it like he wants it, and fuck, maybe he does. He doesn't get enough time to dwell on the question before Jon moves down again, his clock slipping between Theon's pressed-together thighs instead. They're all so hot and slick with sweat that Jon's cock slides against the skin easily, and Theon shudders as the bastard moans in his ear. “Go on, Theon,” he says, teasing Theon's earlobe with his tease. “Please.”

Robb himself whines then, bucking up off the bed. His hand finds Theon's hip – somehow, in the tangled mess of body parts they've turned into – and squeezes. “Please.”

Theon can hardly do anything else.

He thrusts once and then his body takes over; it's like he's not moving at all, just being knocked between Robb and Jon's bodies, Robb taking him so well, tossing his head back and forth on the sheets as Theon fills him up, and Jon, Jon's cock so hot and hard against his skin, giving low animal growls and digging his nails into Theon's sides, enough to leave bruises, and Theon can imagine leaving here scratched to pieces.

“Ah, ah, Theon, Theon,” Robb has been trembling on the edge for an age now and Theon imagines it won't take long for him. He presses his thighs together tighter, meaning to give Jon a little more friction even if he's not sure why he should be so generous, and Jon moans appreciatively in his ear. It makes Theon's cock flex and throb inside Robb, which only leaves Robb more desperate, rubbing himself on the muscles in Theon's torso again. “Oh god, like that, like that, yes...”

“Alright, maybe I underestimated you Greyjoy,” Jon whispers in his ear, and Theon shivers again, grateful for the compliment but sure something's coming, always is with them. “He is liking it a lot.” Then, he slips his cock out from between Theon's legs again, which almost has Theon ready to snap at him for teasing – until it's pressed against his hole again, oh shit. “Give him what you want then. Whatever you want.”

It's too much. Theon makes another embarrassing noise and buries himself as deep in Robb as he can go, before he comes with a loud cry and a lot of shaking. Robb gives a nigh-comical gasp at the sudden rush of hot seed inside him, and his legs cling so hard to Theon's body is like he's trying to wring every last drop out. Theon himself just lies there and moans, letting Jon rock shallowly against his arse, his cock spurting until it's soft at the feel of Jon threatening to opening him up. _Oh god_.

Eventually he does go limp, with a sigh, and as soon as he does Jon pulls back – Theon whines, because it's _cold_ , but then Jon pulls his hair demandingly.

“He's still hard, Greyjoy. Get him off.”

Theon looks down and sees Robb's cock, red and pulsing and dripping with the need to come, and Robb himself, biting his lip and squirming against the sheets, ever more so when Theon's cock slips out and he's left empty, a thin trail of seed running down his leg. It's not hard to guess what Jon wants him to do, but Theon reasons, there's not much point in saying no now, is there? It's clumsy, but he lets Snow pull him up and push him down again, his head buried in Robb's lap. He looks up to where Robb is still panting, looking down and practically begging Theon with his eyes, and he winks. Then he outstretches a hand and wraps it around Robb's length, before giving a long, lewd lick up the side. That earns him a loud whine and yet more muttering: “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

Jon yanks his hair. “On with it.” _Yes m'lord,_ Theon means to answer, but as soon as he answers his mouth Jon somehow manages to shove him so Robb's cock is going into his mouth, right in, and he has to curl his lips around it and suck just to smother a moan. He'd never admit it, but Robb's cock is so good to suck, so nice and thick, and salty as a good cured meat. Robb, usually so polite about these things, is so needy he can't help but thrusting up into Theon's throat, leaving him gagging – but Jon holds him in place, one hand still gripping his hair, while Theon can hear the telltale sound of him tossing himself off with the other. That makes Theon's spent cock twitch a bit between his legs.

Not much is needed of him. Robb's so tightly wound that Theon only has to bob his head about three times or so before he gets another gasp – and then, the explosion of liquid in his mouth, thick and bitter and would-be disgusting, except he enjoys it, he does enjoy it, not that he'd admit that either. He chokes a bit as it splashes inside him, but he does his best to swallow, mindful of what Jon said about making a mess. As he gulps it down, he hears another groan, and he gasps as Jon comes all over his arse, leaving his hole dripping with seed. _Bastard._

He sucks and sucks until Robb is whimpering, squirming away from him, and then he lets go with a pop. He has to struggle to catch his breath, then looks up over his shoulder. “You're a cunt, Snow,” he says, too mindblown to come up with something more witty.

Jon just shrugs, used to getting a lot worse from him. “You seemed to enjoy it at the time,” he says, rolling over on his side.

Theon blushes, and then looks down between his legs. “You made a mess,” he says, as Jon's seed drips from Theon's thighs onto the sheets. “You hypocrite.”

“Here, Theon.” Robb pushes himself up off the bed and grabs one of the sheets and passes it too Theon to help clean him up. Maybe not an ideal solution, but they can worry about that in the morning. “For the record, I maintain what I said about you both being awful.”

Theon pushes himself up, and stares at Robb dubiously while he wipes the come off his skin. “Pretty sure you were enjoying it too, Stark.”

Robb rolls his eyes. “Yes, because I have terrible taste. Don't take that as a good instruction for future behaviour.” Theon just snorts at him, tossing the sheet back while communicating _whatever you say_ with his face. Robb sighs. “I swear, one of these days I'm just going to make you two fuck out your issues, without me getting caught in the middle.”

“Technically, I think Theon was in the middle.” Theon turns his head to see Jon, curled up on his side, eyes closed, already looking half-asleep.

When Theon looks back at him, Robb is huffing in irritation. “He's right, Stark,” he teases. “Besides: you _love_ being caught in the middle.”

“That's not the point.”

 


End file.
